


Bring Me Back to Life

by CJRed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJRed/pseuds/CJRed
Summary: Hermione Granger is stuck in a nightmare, night after night. Can a wizard, she hasn't seen in years, help to bring her back to life and out of her nightmares?





	Bring Me Back to Life

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2019Round2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2019Round2) collection. 



Bring Me Back to Life

 

“Hermione!”

Struggling out of the horror of watching herself being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione heard someone yelling her name. The problem was, in the dream, Ron and Harry were yelling for her too. 

“HERMIONE!” 

She jerked awake and jumped up brandishing her wand, breathing hard and then flushed red as she stared at her boss- and current Minister of Magic- Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“Hermione, you are safe. Put your wand down please,” Kingsley said in a calm, reassuring voice. 

Hermione looked down and realised with horror that her wand was emitting sparks of red. 

“Oh, oh Kings, I am so sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well and I must have dozed off and-“ 

Kingsley waved away her apology, his face now full of worry. “Hermione, I think it is time you spoke with a Healer about this. I am watching you waste away in front of my eyes. Take the rest of the day and go to St. Mungo’s-“ 

Cutting him off, Hermione protested, “I couldn’t- I have so much to do…” 

She trailed off as the large wizard in front of her drew himself up and crossed his arms, staring her down. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Hermione. You. Healer. Now.” 

Without another word, Hermione huffed out an exhausted breath and grabbed her robe, rushing out the door before he made another-

“And get some food too!” 

Hermione cringed but nodded, knowing he would be checking to make sure she stopped at the cafeteria before she left. 

Two hours later:  
Hermione got dressed distractedly as she watched her healer tap her quill against what had to be Hermione’s personal chart. Carefully keeping calm, Hermione waited for what the old witch had to say to her. 

“You are not getting proper sleep, child,” the Healer said looking up. 

Hermione shrugged - well that was true enough, three years past the war and she still had vivid nightmares. If she ever did manage to get to sleep. Mostly she just laid up, wondering what made her so special that people - good people- had died, while she lived. 

“I, I take dreamless sleep,” Hermione said softly. She knew she could not outright lie to the witch so she stuck to the shades of the light that made her story plausible. 

“Not drinking or abusing substances?” the mediwitch asked briskly. 

Hermione nodded jerkily at the rude woman. 

“I log how many times I use it,” Hermione said gesturing to the small diary she carried with her where she logged any and all potions and medications she took. 

“Twice a week, recently,” the mediwitch said kindly looking up from the offered timetable, to study the clearly desperate war heroine in front of her. Snapping the diary shut the mediwitch handed it back to Hermione and shook her head sadly. “Even two a week is two too many, child.” 

 

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “What would you have me do. I have to sleep and I need to do it dreamlessly. My dreams-” Hermione gave a small shrug and shuddered. “Well, I don’t get any sleep without the potion, I can tell you that.” 

Setting the medical chart down, the mediwitch moved forward to get a better look at her. Hermione knew she would see the telltale signs of exhaustion and probably a few other disorders. She was starting to fear she wasn’t getting enough sun and that her liver was bad. 

The medi witch ran her wand over Hermione and shook her head sadly. “There is nothing for it; you need rest before this damage is not repairable. I will speak with KIngsley today. I probably should be doing check-ups on every single one of you who fought in this war. Merlin only knows what the rest of your generation is dealing with.” 

Hermione scoffed and yanked her robe back on. “I have to get back to work,” she said decisively. 

The mediwitch stepped in front of her. “Now, I just said I was talking to your boss. We have some things to arrange and you will need a break to deal with this.”

“A break from what? Work? I hate to break it to you, Healer Alaverez; but work is what keeps me sane. 

 

The Healer made a rude noise and stood up to her full height. Staring down her nose at the shorter Hermione, “You are no use to anyone in this state. There is a retreat; they managed to steal one of this century’s greatest mind healers right from under us. If you apply yourself to what he has to teach and show you- I expect we will not be seeing you back here until you decide to have children.”

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard she was worried she might faint. Children? What hogwash, she could barely manage to take care of herself. 

 

Three weeks later:   
Somewhere in the South of France

Hermione stepped through the Floo and pushed forward into a line for a witch who looked to be sorting out portkeys for those continuing their travel. Unknown to most people, Hermione Granger spoke almost fluent French, which meant that she understood everything the grumpy witch was saying about the uppity foreigners shoving their way to her desk. 

The older witch didn’t even look up as she handed over a bottle cap to Hermione- which seemed to be the portkey object of choice- and a pamphlet outlining the French Magical Community guidelines.

Hermione had just secured her bag when she felt the tug of the portkey. When she landed she was grateful she at least had managed to stay standing. It seemed prudent to stay still until the nausea abated. She never would get used to travelling by portkey. 

The nausea soon passed and she was able to look around, finding that she was in some kind of chateau. Studying the wards around her she let out a small whistle, hitching up her bag. 

“Nasty jinx for whoever trips that,” Hermione whispered palming her wand and looking carefully around the courtyard. “Odd.” 

Suddenly a small voice squeaked out at her, “Miss finds our flowers odd?” 

Whirling around with her hand clutching her racing heart, Hermione looked down into the weathered face of a very old house elf, female if the mismatched outfit was anything to go off of. 

“Oh, um, hello.” She stuck out her hand crouching down to the elves height. “I am Hermione Granger.” 

The elf gave her an odd look and hesitated before she decided to ignore the offered hand and instead dipped into a curtsey. 

“Oh, please don’t do that,” Hermione pleaded. 

The elf had straightened back up and was studying her again. “I am being tolds to tell Miss that yous cants free us. We already get-“ the elf paused seeming to struggle with the word. 

“Wages?” Hermione asked incredulously. 

The elf nodded and waved her hand so that Hermione’s one trunk disappeared. 

 

“Master doesn’t usually take private clients. Master is brilliant and we’s lucky to have him. My name is Kip and I am the being with master the longest.”

Hermione chewed on her lip as she listened to the little elf talk about her mysterious master. The mediwitch had been tight-lipped about who she would be working with. 

She was trying to keep an open mind but she had to say, this all seemed like a waste of time to her. If eight years hadn’t solved the problem, what would one week in a private resort do besides back up her interoffice memos for when she returned to work. 

The travel was catching up to her by the time she found herself standing in a beautiful lavender and cream room. It was in one word- stunning. 

With a snap of her fingers, the elf had changed Hermione out of her travelling clothes and into a silk negligee with a matching robe and slippers. 

As Hermione stumbled into the bathroom, she was surprised to see a vanity that she sank down onto gratefully and didn’t protest when the little elf started working on her too long, and too tangled hair. 

“Miss needs oils; Kip will try some to see which ones works the best.” 

Hermione just yawned, far too tired to argue with an elf over her hair. 

“Now miss takes this,” the elf said bossily handing over a dreamless sleep potion. 

Hermione grimaced as she downed the potion after running a quick wandless spell over it. If Kip noticed her doing so, the little elf didn’t say anything. 

Her next memory was waking up in a bright, airy room with the lavender curtains open around her bed. 

Sitting up cautiously, she let out a sigh of relief to find her wand on the low bookshelf next to the bed. She carefully got out of bed and slid on the warm slippers neatly placed on the floor. She was belting her robe when Kip rushed in levitating a tray. 

“Miss needs to be eating. Miss slept for three days.” 

Hermione jumped in shock at hearing this news and quickly sat down at a table near a window that was clearly set for her to eat at. 

“Oh, goodness. I am only here for four more days-“ 

Kip cut her off, “Miss needs not worry. Master knows how tired miss is. Master says you eat and we dress you and you can start.” 

Hermione tucked her wild curls behind her ears and dug into her full English. Regarding the pumpkin juice with a smile, she took a sip. 

When it was time to get dressed Hermione was surprised that the little elf pulled out a soft pink sundress. 

“Oh, I don’t wear pink-“ 

The elf cut her off. “Yous should be. Miss has lucky colours. Pink, Cream, and Purple belong to miss. For luck, you needs to be wearing pink, purple, and cream.”

Hermione flushed as she slipped a light purple teddy with a built-in bra over matching knickers- if you could call the little scraps of lace that- and then put on the pink sundress, before finally shoving her feet into cream-coloured ballet flats. 

She wasn’t sure about luck, but she sure felt pretty as she twirled in front of the mirror. 

It took Kip around twenty minutes to tame her curls, and when she was finished Hermione was shocked. 

“How did you do that?” she asked fingering a soft curl. 

Kip gave her a superior look. “I’s has my ways. Miss hair just needs love. I send you list of things home.” 

Hermione smiled in appreciation, grabbing her wand, followed the little elf out of the room. Just before exiting the room, she turning around quickly to make her bed, earning her a scowl from the elf. 

 

 

Theodore Nott was nervous. As a rule, he never took clients he had any personal connection to. Not that you could call throwing insults at a witch while still in school a ‘personal connection’. But, still, this was out of character for him. 

He had almost cancelled twice. What had kept him from throwing in the towel and telling Kingsley Shacklebolt where to shove his request had been a picture of Hermione Granger in the paper the morning he prepared to send Shacklebolt an owl. The witch looked haunted, underfed, and deeply unhappy. 

This wasn’t a love affair gone wrong. This was something deeper. So, instead of sending the letter pulling away his appointment to help, he had instead demanded to see every file on the witch. He disguised it in terms of making sure she had no underlying health conditions or addictions. 

When everything had come back ‘normal’, Theo had finally agreed to see her. He had to suck in a breath and hold it when the stunning witch walked into his dining room chatting happily with Kip. 

She knew French? That hadn’t been in her file. What other mysteries was she hiding? 

He waited for her to notice him and then went a bit red when she did. He knew he looked different. In the time between now and when they last saw each other, he had bulked up and started cutting his hair properly. It had been nearly a decade since Theo last set foot in England - meer weeks after Dumbledore had died. 

Deciding to take control, Theo remembered his manners. “Won’t you please sit, Miss Granger.” 

Hermione Inclined her head and did just that, allowing him to tuck her into the seat. 

“I have already eaten,” she said softly. 

“Of course, Kip takes nothing more seriously than feeding those she is in charge of for the week. Please forgive me, I had better eat my breakfast or else she will make my life miserable the rest of the day.” 

Hermione Granger smiled at him, although he noticed it didn’t go to her eyes.

Hermione shifted under his intense gaze and couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. 

“Do you have family in England?” 

A short nod was followed by the wizard’s frown. “Still do, actually. But when the war broke out my mother moved us to France. Madame Maxime is a lot better at keeping children out of trouble-“ he trailed off and gave an apologetic shrug. 

The handsome wizard threw his hair back and laughed at the obvious grimace on her face. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. I understand you lot worshipped the wizard.” 

Hermione shivered and looked away. “Not me.” 

There was a small silence and then he nodded. “No, not you.” 

Pushing his plate aside, they stared at one another before Theo finally said softly. “Let’s move to my study and begin to figure out these dreams you keep having.” 

Two hours later Hermione was pacing in agitation and Theo felt a headache coming on. “I know you don’t like the idea, but we really need to check you for residual magic. Bellatrix Lestrange was a vindictive bitch. I wouldn’t put it past her to have cursed you somehow.” 

“But they have already had curse breakers and such look at me,” Hermione insisted. 

Theo – as he had asked to be called- let out a wary breath. “Not how I check.” 

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. “You want to go into my dream?” 

Theo stood quietly contemplating her before continuing. “I know it sounds bad, but I assure you it is completely safe.”

Hermione threw herself down on the couch and then gave a jerky nod. “I am desperate. I can’t go on like this night after night,” she peeked at him and then stood back up. “But you are taking a wand oath that you will tell no one what you found on me!” 

Theo held up his hands, “I already took one swearing to your privacy with Kingsley Shacklebolt when he solicited my services. But of course, I will offer you a separate one. Lunch first?” 

 

That night Hermione sat on the edge of her bed staring at a vial of purple liquid with a note attached. 

Drink this, I will be informed when you break the seal.   
You will be perfectly safe.

 

Taking a deep breath for courage, Hermione drank down the deep purple potion and fell asleep almost immediately. 

Suddenly she was there, back in the drawing room, and she could hear herself screaming and she sank down on the wall, with eyes shut tight and covered her ears with her hands. Before she started sobbing, however, strong arms pulled her up and hugged her as a deep voice whispered in her ear. 

“Just a dream, Miss Granger. This is just a dream. Let us learn to not let it control you, okay?”

Hermione took a shuddering breath and dared to look up into worried clear blue eyes. 

“Oh! I remember you. You’re Theodore Nott.” She paused and then went cold with dread. “Your father tried to kill me.”

“I imagine he would have done. He wasn’t a kind man and the Dark Mark twisted him even further.” 

Familiar screams echoed again in the hall causing Hermione to wince. A hand appeared before her - Theo offering her help to stand.

“Is it always the same?” Theo asked looking around the long ornately decorated hall they found themselves in. 

Hermione nodded and pointed a shaky finger towards where the screams were originating. “Sometimes I am already in the room watching myself and other times I am out here, hearing it. I think the nights I am stuck out here might be the worst. I can hear Ronald and Harry yelling for me from the hallway.” 

Theo glanced down the opposite direction and gave a slow nod. “They heard you from the dungeons?” 

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and let out a small sob. 

A particularly loud scream made them both jump and Hermione felt sick. Could you get sick in a dream? If you could, she was about to. 

“Do you ever head into the room on your own?” 

Hermione looked up at him with her tear-tracked face and grimaced in disquiet. “Why would I do that?” 

Theodore Nott grabbed her arm and started walking with her towards the drawing room where she was tortured. 

Hermione was so startled she didn’t pull away. Before she knew it they were in the drawing room and she saw that Bellatrix was crouched over her, cutting her, but her other self wasn’t screaming for this. 

“Merlin, why aren’t you screaming?” Theodore whispered his tone hoarse with shock. 

Hermione gave a tight smile and wiped at her face as more tears leaked out. “I couldn’t help from screaming when she used the curse, but when she cut me I refused to scream. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.” 

Theo let out a small whistle and pointed at the scene in front of them. “You allowed some insane witch to carve into your body and refused to scream?” 

Hermione nodded and a ghost of a smile played at her lips. “I suppose I did, yes.” 

“So why are you letting her control your dreams, Hermione Granger?” 

Hermione jerked forward and then stared back at herself on the floor, screaming again as more curses hit her. 

“I- I have never thought of it that way,” she replied truthfully. 

Theo walked forward and kicked Bella off of dream Hermione before he used his wand and she disappeared. 

“You also have magic. Next time you end up in this dream, use it!” 

Hermione knew her eyes were wide with shock as Theodore Nott disappeared everyone in the room until it was just them. 

“How have I never thought to use my magic?” 

Theo gave her a kind smile and squeezed her arm reassuringly. “When you are caught up in fear, it is almost always all down to luck. Outside of fear, that is where someone like you works best.” 

Hermione pondered that for a moment and then sank down to the floor. “I- I shouldn’t have lived. It was luck, like you said, just luck!” 

Theodore sighed and sank down beside her on the floor. “I read about what happened in your file. You were brilliant, now imagine how brilliant you can be if you don’t have to fear your own dreams?” 

Hermione rocked and then looked into the earnest blue eyes of the man beside her. “Will you help me?” 

Theodore took her hand and nodded. “I will. Now, have you ever wondered what this room would look like with wallpaper with fluffy bunnies on it?” 

The next morning Hermione woke up refreshed and with a smile. 

The drawing room of Malfoy Manor had indeed looked better with fluffy white bunny wallpaper. 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> A special thank you to my alpha/beta. She is my sun, moon, and stars.


End file.
